


Green Dash; The Closed Path

by Ma4rs



Series: Green Dash; The Closed Path [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Agender Character, Attempted Kidnapping, Cults, F/F, F/M, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Magic, Magic-Users, Magical Accidents, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Spells & Enchantments, Supernatural Elements, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Warlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21743395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ma4rs/pseuds/Ma4rs
Summary: When Button is almost kidnapped with her apartment in sight, she's put on mental high alert. There's something... no... someone out there looking for her, she just doesn't know why. A few short miles outside of her bustling city is the beautiful state park and the secrets that it holds will slowly unravel in this magical cult mystery.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Male Character(s) & Original Non-Binary Character(s)
Series: Green Dash; The Closed Path [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567159





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! I'm really nervous to finally post this but I'm feeling it!! I've been working on this for about a year now and I think I've edited the first few chapters enough to my liking to post. This is going to be a slow burn because that's how I do. If you're looking for magic wielding LGBTQIA characters you've come to the right place.

Frigid, as it always is deep in thick woods. The sun is far away, trying to redden the dark and starry sky, taking time slowly rising in the distance. The rays are barely noticeable through the densely packed trees. What it does reach shines with a sparkling dew. It will rise higher, drown out the stars, and soon evaporate any evidence of dew from the night before. The woods spread for miles in all directions from about any location.

  
Small, hidden under a dark and thin speckled cloak, incredibly close to the ground, is Luca gathering herbs and medicinal plants for themselves and the rest of the Nest. Footsteps like velvet slippers on marble, faint, nearly inaudible, even against dried leaves and twigs that snap and crunch against the slightest breeze. Luca has a list, just a few general herbs, flowers, and roots, all of which the Elders have marked in the woods with their own Sight. Luca has been through these woods so many times, they did not need their Sight to spot the elusive medicines. The Elders started sending Luca to forage at the age of twelve as the Sight had developed much earlier then anticipated. Most born of the Nest did not gain their Sight until fifteen. If it did not arise, they could choose to end their life or live a life without the sun, as they would be damned to the caverns of the Nest. The Eldest did not trust a Fhelt that could not See. Eighteen days after Luca's tenth birthday they awoke to a strange tight feeling in their sinuses and figured it was just a cold coming on and rubbed a small half crushed peppermint leaf under their nose in hopes it would stop the pressure that seemed to keep building. They looked around the cavern at the other Fhelt in their bed area and noticed a strange dull light coming from the common cavern.

  
Pushing past several new Fhelt, Luca followed the light, there were no candles light this time of morning, the longest Fhelt was not fully awake so there was no way he had lit them. The light was not the same. The eyes of all the Fhelt were on Luca, most gawking as they could see what Luca could not; the golden hue that glazed their eyes.

  
The common cavern was black as night to the other Fhelt, but not Luca. The golden flakes danced in the air and began to wind around the large dense ball of endless flecks of shades of blue and purple. The light it gave off covered up higher then Luca had ever seen the candlelight touch before, and still far above that there was darkness. They were drawn to the glowing ball, the flecks had no feel or smell to them but still they could feel the flecks pulling them in the right direction, as the frantic whispers slowly faded to static around them.

  
Word spreads fast through the Nest. Luca was still standing golden flecks pouring from them adding to the giant orb, confused as to what was going on, but the longer Fhelt knew; one raced to the Eldest the moment their eyes caught the gold over Lucas. The Eldest was back to the Fhelt cavern before Luca had turned around, befuddled, to ask if anyone else was seeing this or feeling this. The longest Nest-born Fhelt was 11 at time, so no; no one else was seeing this.  
Sight training started the next day.

  
The tree bark crunched lightly under their hands as they pried it off the tree, the memory lingering as they tuck a few chunks of it into the deep pockets of their long cloak. Gold flecks float in the air like shredded ribbons leading them to the next deposit of plants on the list, the thin flecks grew in size, from the size of a pinky nail to the size of a postage stamp, and density, from almost translucent to completely opaque. As Luca got closer to the plants, the small flecks glowed a soft light. The closer the flecks to another, the more they glowed.

  
Using Sight was the easiest way to find things; though many of the others did not have the ability to use it, but that was probably because they were not born Here. Not many of the Fhelt or Eier were. Most came to the nest because the Elders had chosen them, though it was usually without their permission.

  
The golden light evaporated as Luca unfocused their Sight to gather the leaves. A holistic approach to medicine was the easiest for those in the Nest as they never ventured out of their woods, other than for other Fhelt. Even then, only those experienced enough with their Sight and trusted enough by the Elders may go. They are given a week to plan with their partner then the Elders go over their plan and decide if it is suitable. They must be back before the sun touches their motherland, as were the wishes of the Eldest. Their word was law, and breaking their laws meant punishment. Luca’s punishment for smaller things were enough to kept nightmares rampant for a long time. The Elders knew best though, so it was smart not to test them or push their limits. Luca's most prominent punishment was a small square of pink flesh. The scar was healing nicely; it was about a year healed, though they would have this scar until the end of their days. It was small, not much bigger than a postage stamp, but the remembrance of the pain and technique The Elders used felt as close as the day before. The Elders would take anything sharp enough within their reach to carve off a piece of the flesh to relinquish the lowers of their crimes. In Luca's case, a specially made human skin potato peeler. Others faced less favorable peels; one Fhelt’s punishment was with a sharpened letter opener, another with a tool that looked similar to a chisel. Luca still wasn't completely sure how that Eldest pulled that off

  
Luca flicks a few stray hairs off their cheek, reaches into a small hidden pocket in their sleeve and pops a mint leaf into their mouth, letting the refreshing burst wake them up a bit more as the birds finally started chirping and their song was more of a lullaby than naught. Mornings were not Luca’s friend. A typical morning for Luca is spending the first 20 minutes rolling back and forth on the cot grumbling to themselves, running their fingers through their small clumps of hair, listening to the gentle morning murmurs of the other Fehlt, the random scrapes of chairs, and the scuffling of shoes. Their favorite was the scent of coffee, freshly crushed to bits. Mornings had a great smell but not a great feel. They'd rolled over again before Jones was above their face chirping about a dream he had last night or fumbling trying to pull the stool out from under Luca's bed, balancing on one foot while the other tried to scoot it out to set down the coffees he'd made them.

  
This morning followed that pattern exactly, except one thing;

  
“Luca, come on!” Jones had a mug in both hands, using his foot as expected. He put the mugs down. “There wasn't any sugar cane leftover so we're drinking it black today.”

Luca groaned again pressing their palms into their eyes, “Jones, give me some _good_ news.”

“The Eldest is picking a half a dozen of us to move up ranks!” That got their attention.

  
“Half a dozen is the most they've picked since Quincy and Raina went up,” Luca palmed the steaming cup. “Do you think something is wrong?”

  
“You can make the best news seem horrible Luca!!” Jones sat heavily on the cot next to them, “Look, we're a great group of Fhelt, half of us are part of generations of nest-born. We are a prime crew to pick at. Your Sight has been active in you for like six years! Doesn't-”

  
“Seven years Jones.” They spat.  
“Seven!” He flashes seven fingers to Luca, “Even more reason to be excited.”

  
His energy was palpable, Luca grumbled lightly, stood, and took a quick sip of the bitter black coffee. Ugh, they would remember to add sugarcane to the list of supplies. They gulped the rest down and made a face. The half-day trip to the edge of their lands would be worth it not to stomach this liquid again.

  
The look on Luca's face was enough for Jones to know the trip was going to happen as soon as the ceremony was over.

  
Most of the Fhelt never wandered out of eyesight of the mountain where the entrances to the caverns were. You could always follow the mountain to find the entrances, but the trees would not lead you to the mountain. Without Sight how would they find their way back? The woods were dense, the trees tall, some with bent misshapen boughs that angled them across the others spreading branches and leaves to block the light and the view. Most areas close to the entrances hid in plain sight with extra trees, thinning out in an unnatural yet natural pattern into the rest of the woods. Dense trees were a great cover. Even the entrances themselves hid in the mountain, covered in natural vines, inlaid with rock doors that somehow swung inwards silently. Luca had always imagined that there was someone to make sure the thick hinges; oiled at all times. As a fifth generation Nest born Luca knew the Nest inside and out, but still that oil guard eluded them.

  
The Fhelt had their own small area in the seemingly endless maze-like caverns of the mountain. It had a common area, a food prep area, a kitchen area, and a dining area. The kitchen was a room with an island fire pit in the middle, the edges made with thin cooking stones. There were several spaces where the stones had slits cut into them, a perfect place to cook meats. The fire gently roared at all hours, a Fhelt was assigned was to make sure of that. Towards the back of the Fehlt space was the long room in which their cots were, usually not all filled.

  
There were a few tables in the dining area for if there wasn't space to eat in the Mess Hall, or if they just preferred the comfort of their own. Higher ups in the nest moved up by the Elders or the Eldest Eye’s decisions. It is one of the highest praises; it usually went to their heads and over inflated their egos. Given a new class, a new name, it was an honor most worked years and years to achieve. Even then, it was up to the Eldest or the Eye to raise them up through the ranks. A celebration would follow a grand feast of things from the farthest reaches of the Motherland. Tiny birds with sweet greasy meat, the same texture as a rabbits, sweet cakes made with sugarcane, a rainbow of berries that were tart and juicy, a sip each from wine made for occasions such as this; old and sweet.

  
Not everyone stays a Fehlt for long. Either you advance or you die. Simple as that. Being sure the nest is stocked with Fehlt or Eier was important. The Elders made certain there was an abundance of those who were worthy enough to live in the Nest. It was up to them to decide who would be a part of the Motherland. Having those in Avem, the class above theirs, was important too, and there were some positions above them, but those positions filled up with only those who reach the Eldest’s expectations.

  
The Avem keep the Nest functioning how it should. It was the Eldest and the Elders life work, a constant and continuous work. Not all humans are equal. Those not up to Nest standards were disposed of. Fehlt were like the Nests version of a new comer, usually converted from being an Eier. Higher than an Eier, yet still so low on the rung of the Nest.

  
There were supposedly even more ranks above that but “that does not concern the Fhelt” the Eldest always said so there was no need for Luca or any other Nester to know any rank higher than the one they're trying to reach. Luca knew it was only because the higher ups were the ones who braved the Outside and brought the chosen in. It would be some time before Luca or any other Fhelt would ever be in that position to leave their Motherland. Therefore, they decided they would know it better than any other Fhelt and any other Avem. They would know these woods better than anyone in the Nest.

  
Luca sighed silently, their struggles to rise even with Sight at such an early age befuddled them.

_"There has to be a reason I am not good enough."_

  
Many were brought in over the years but many could not See, not like Luca could, even after years in the caves and their strict and endless training. They were lost to Lovers Lake and the creatures in it, as most were. The path to the lake was long and dark, more than half of it was through the unlit underground, but the lake was deep and sang no songs thereafter.

  
The birds above fall silent. Twigs snap far in the distance, Luca hears it. Body frozen. Eyes darting in all directions. No one comes _this_ far into _these_ woods. A snarl quiet like a whisper escaped their lips. They were something new, a new feel to Luca. Those beyond the woods in the Outside knew better. The Crows made sure they knew better. Another crunch, two steps closer. Three of them. A stern look crosses Luca’s face. They are not moving fast but they are closing in. A haze slips over their vision, no one comes out this far unless they are hoping to never surface again. Normally, these kinds of things would not even make Luca flinch, but the raw energy that grew as they stepped closer scared Luca into flight mode.

  
With two more rustles in the distance, a few more steps closer this time, the cloaked figure is off in a quiet sprint, clutching to a bundle of freshly picked burdock.

  
Branches continuously seem to spring up left and right, small knots on them scratch across Luca’s cheeks causing them to block their face with their arms, becoming a sort of silenced tree branch battering ram. Their mind screams at them; “Seven steps, a slight hop to the right, fifteen more steps, duck, then get back up and start running.”

  
Luca’s mind stops, letting their body take control. They have known these woods a long time but that does not mean they know everything. Anyone of the others who could See could have fixed a trap or moved things around a bit without informing them or dropping new Sight. Dense blue and purple blobs hang dimly 70 yards away, two traps near; a trip wire with a swinging log, and a pit. They could tell by the hue and density in which they hovered. Luca could tell whose Sight had left them. Half of the Fhelt could not control their density drop; many in Avem had half a control on it.

  
_Twelve steps, hop over Jones' trip wire, nine steps, long jump or go around Mags pit._

  
Luca nods at their own nearly invisible small flecks in the air, they follow going around the pit; saving a precious 9 seconds of breakaway time, they had not even seen Luca, but Luca didn’t know that. Their feet are back to a quiet sprint through the tangled trees before their mind is. Steps light, but quick, leaving little to no sound behind them. If those in the woods thought they had Luca, they were very wrong.

  
Blue and purple streaks and flecks of all densities hovered in the air, around the trees; the colors laid out were slightly different but most hung in that range. Only Luca could lay down the beautiful gold. Seeing that many colors and all those densities could only mean one thing: Home. When training those with Sight attempt to lay out all densities and sizes of Sight at the far edge of the blocker trees. Not only does this get them accustomed to being in the woods further from the mountain, it creates a beautiful blue-purple invisible symbol that safety is here.

  
Lucas own gold Sight tracks ran to all ends of the motherland. Most did not dare brave the gold unless they were close to other blues or purples. They did not trust Lucas habits to travel to the most random of places, endless dead-end, and trees with no value to the Nest. Luca knew. Those were _their_ trails.

Nothing was random. If anyone dared to brave them, they would not even know.

Nothing is without reason in The Nest.


	2. Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Button, the protagonist of this story, a drunken mess of hair and attitude in a city of endless noises. Watch out for those pebbles when you're bare foot.

Bare feet stepped onto the station platform, transition from concrete to metal grates rung icy pins up Button's legs. She inhaled sharply when her skin made contact, a rush of cold ran a sobering jolt from tip to toe, but with her alcohol levels, it was not as sobering as to be expected. Her body reeled forwards through the turnstile to the row of ticket terminals on the far wall. There was an air of mystery about her, but this was probably because she was a sloppy drunken mess.

Muscle memory clicked the button for her district followed up by the light thunk of Button tapping her phone on the pay-port. It spat out a ticket.

Even this late at night the city and the traffic roared around her. It was one of those never sleeping cities. She never understood how such a boring city could be awake at this hour. Then again, so was she.

She laughed drunkenly to herself, breathing out a quickly dissipating cloud as she clutched her jacket tightly around her. Steam escaped through the drains and manhole covers; even the sewer rats were warmer than where she stood. High-rise condominiums and apartments surrounded her.

The county of Wrenga always seemed to have an icy cloud over it. Which meant jackets and sweaters were in fashion year round, but in this city, it seemed like the buildings just insulated the cold. It snowed like clockwork the first and last few months of the year. Luckily, for her the snow would not come for a few more, summer wasn’t the greatest here either, but maybe that was just her opinion. Tall buildings did keep the sun from beating directly down and soaking your clothes with sweat, but it didn’t stop the humidity for a single moment. With all the things she hated about weather, summer rains were her favorite. The rainbows usually shone beautifully over the tall buildings. It was always a captivating sight to behold, but it would damn near always be cut short with a horn honk, distant yelling, and an occasional crunch of metals from another idiot running the stop sign off the junction of Wabash and Harper Street, being t-boned by another car who figured they’d run their stop sign as well. Four way stops are seemingly a problem to the residents on Harper Street.

Knowing the usual weather, you think she’d be wearing something more practical maybe a light jacket, shoes for one, but no. She wondered where those damn heels went but when it came to a party, if she left with her shoes on her person it was a bust. She’d get them back in a day or so. Now, don’t get me wrong, she already seems like an angel, right? Close enough in these crazy days. Hell, when it comes to the city, as long as you’re not a drug dealer or a murderer you’re the next best thing to Gabriel himself coming down and lightly brushing your cheek with the back of his hand.

She approached the bus stop and plopped groggily onto the metal seat jeans shielding her skin from bare cold contact. While she was busy wiggling her toes to try and keep any sort of feeling in them, the city slept around her. The bus came shortly after the coldness in her feet turned to numbness. The door squeaked open; she looked up at the plump driver as he smiled lightly.

“’Nother long night Button?” The bus driver, his name is Damian by the way, croaked lightly as her ticket sucked away into the fare box. His large hands pulled out a pair of her shoes from under his seat.

“Another one for the books.” She gave him a drunken half smile and thanked him for the shoes. Not that it really helped her now that instead of feet she had two ice blocks. She pulled socks out of the shoes and slid them on her feet, shoes followed. Sighing lightly, she rested her head on the headrest, the drive would be about 20 minutes, and maybe she could close her eyes for just a moment. She did. The warmth of the bus and her newly put on shoes wrapped around her.

Since I know you’re going to ask; yes, it’s her real name. Who would have expected two white suburban parents to give their child a strange name? Well, when your mom is a tailor and your father worships the ground she walks on, you can expect some weird names in the batch. It just so happens that Button truly is as cute as a button.

Well, she was. She’s grown out of that cute as button phase and is honestly, just beautiful. Alabaster skin, soft like silk and clear as the summer sky. One freckle on her face, right next to her left ear, though, she usually covered it with concealer. Eyes like the perfect blue curacao infused cocktail, with just a hit of lemon zest around her pupil. Her hair is a brown mess of waves, with a few sprinkles of blonde. Ever seen those marble sculptures where their jawline is chiselled and etched to perfection? Button to a T. With just a little more spunk about her. The bus came to a stop, gently shifting her and the other three passengers just slightly in their seats.

“Button,” the driver called without looking back, “this one is you.”

Her eyes opened.

She slipped out of her shoes, placed the socks back into them and handing them to Damian, who placed the directly back where they were. This routine was nothing new to him, it’s just another late night/early morning for Button.

Thinking back, the first time she came onto the bus without her shoes he half smiled at her and pulled a pair of socks out of the glove box. The eighth time happened, he asked her what her shoe size was and bought the pair she’s wearing right now. Just a strange but kind person in this city. They were few and far between. She appreciated his kindness and compassion for her continuously dumb, drunk, and shoe-less self. Especially on nights like this where she was walking with ice blocks. Last year she gave him a gift card to some Italian place he always talked about, she was sure he was going to cry. To her it was just a small gesture of thanks for the shoes and care.

“Ah fuck,” Button exhaled sharply as the cold rushed through the soles of her feet. She shook it off. Walking briskly towards her apartment a few blocks from the stop, darkness and tall buildings seemingly started closing in on her. She mumbled another curse as the perfectly pointed rock found its way under her naked feet. A mental note made to shove some ballet shoes into her jacket next party, maybe finally stop wearing her bus shoes on the ride home, popped up in her mind.

Her apartment building was in her view, tall, off yellow, maybe 16 stories. She knew she lived on the 9th floor and it was just a little more than halfway up, but she didn’t really care about the floors above and below her. It was maybe another six blocks, and then her sweet, warm, unmade bed with numerous fluffy pillows, soft carpet, and heated sheets. Heated sheets are something you should totally invest in if you haven’t already.

No, seriously. Go look at them online they’re great.

Now, Button lives alone in her little studio apartment, one bed, one bath, full kitchen, and washing machines on the same floor. She couldn’t complain, it’s cheap, her landlord isn’t a complete ass, and her neighbours to both sides are potheads. Which was the perfect cover for her to smoke as much as she pleased while the boys to either side of her got in trouble or warned again and again. Those warnings never stopped them and she didn’t see the landlord kicking them out anytime soon. It wasn’t something she did all day every day, but at the end of the night sometimes all she’d need was a fat one to the face and off to the dreamscape she went.

About four blocks to go, still walking like a champ, still cold as hell. ‘Butt you’re an idiot, always losing your damn shoes…’ She thought angrily to herself, shaking her head. ‘Ehh.. Frankie always throws a banger. I knew this was going to happen.’ Nodding to herself, she kept a close eye on the ground.

Frankie, her co-worker, because she wouldn’t even call them friends, maybe associates? Either way, you know what; how about we talk about Frankie? A few words to describe Frankie; fucking stubborn, just stubborn like a damn mule. You could not make this man change his mind no matter how many facts and graphs you pull out. Hell, a God themselves could come down and he would most definitely chortle at them and continue about his ways. A bit of an ass, as most of the stubborn ones are.

Something put Button on edge every time he sauntered into the office and flopped into his rolling chair before slamming his fingers on the keyboard, failing his computer password the first time. Then again when logging into their programs. His constantly arched brow, like he had any thoughts up under that brown messy head of hair and the way he somehow made the rolling office chairs make a scrape sound when he rolled over the cables over and over again.

Hard worker is another one to describe him; if he could, he would marry overtime and have a bunch of overtime babies. Did this dude ever leave their office? Button was damn sure that he had a cot at work until he invited her over one night.

Now, this was a few months ago, and when he had first invited her over she immediately shot him down no hesitation, ‘no way you’re fucking me bub,’ she thought snidely.

He just shrugged and brushed his shoulder with hers as he attempted to pass her, “Your loss Button, I throw a killer party.”

“…Party?” If Button had dog-ears, they would have perked up the second that the first syllable of the word came out.

He stopped about a pace away from her, his head turned, a sly smile across his lips, “Yeah, a party, Button, if you want to be a Butt you don’t have to come. It’s just an invitation man.” He started to walk away when Buttons fingers wrapped around his bicep.

“Time. Place. BYOB? Other co-workers? Dress code?” Her grip on his arm didn’t falter.

“My place, I’ll get you the address before I leave, 11PM, bring whatever, I’m fully stocked. Unless you have someone else in mind, just you and Ash. Do people still have dress codes for parties? Just don’t wear your work clothes man.”

Ash, we’ll get to her later, just know that Button and Ash don’t quite get along. No real reason, they just don’t have much in common and Button is just horrible at small talk. She can try but it’s just so damn awkward and Ash makes constant small talk.

Button is a master at avoiding people. No worries on her end, she’ll just make sure Ash is at a safe distance while at the party.

Spoiler; it totally didn’t work out that way, but like I said, we’re going to get to Ash in a little bit. Now.

Back to these party plans;

Buttons lips slipped out, “I’ll be there.” Her grip loosened, but she didn’t let go, “You a vodka guy?”

“Never go a day without it.” He chirped, winking and sliding out of her grip. He smiled at her before continuing his original walk to his desk, it was within eye sight of Button’s but she never really cared to look his way, mostly because he’s a stubborn ass. But hey, booze, party with damn near no one she knows; Button could not resist.

Though you have met Button as a slight alcoholic, she did not used to be that way. Sure, the occasional drink but not to black out or to forget some feeling. It just so happens that after transferred from her nice warm office to this cold city a year and a half ago, she found herself at parties, drunk, and usually shoe-less. She could almost be herself. The less people she knows the better. What is easier than starting with a clean slate with every person you meet? Who needs to know your past, your traumas, and your bad life choices? Even better is when she knows she will never see that person again.

That was exactly how she liked it, single serving friends. No need for seconds. She was never the greatest at having friends anyway, so why try to make them if she knows she will never keep them. Seemed simple enough to her when she first moved here. Loneliness was not really a big deal to her; work, party, sleep, repeat. Who needs friends? Who needs someone to call on? She would just go on the internet, people are easy to come by there and usually ready to gossip about someone they know nothing about. It worked perfectly for Button. The solitude was peace to her.

Speaking of solitude, Button had the perfect place for it. There was this vast park just outside of her city, maybe half an hour from the cities edge. It is huge and 150,000 acres of dense forest. A gorgeous site for camping with over a hundred different spots wedged off the major paths. Teens used to throw parties deep in the woods, lit just enough by lanterns and those weird torch lights to party, not enough for any forest rangers to find them from a distance. Believe me, there was plenty of distance between the paths and the parties for rangers not to realize they were going on for years well into the night. It was easy enough to slip away after dawn broke and the park opened.

There were two dozen marked paths to take and dozens more unmarked. Button always stuck to three of them, the red line, the blue dotted line, and the purple dashed line. Mostly because they’re some of the easiest, and clearest paths with just enough of nature to say you took a nature walk but not enough to turn you into Mother Nature herself. The tall trees reminded her of the city, but even so, it was her peaceful place. Many people jogged the red line. It was the route she took when she wanted to feel surrounded by people, but not have to actually deal with them on any sort of level. The blue dot was less crowded, it went along the outside edge of the park and had a run in with the red line a little more than a mile in, perfect to turn around and take the rest of the red line back to base. All together the blue dot and red line took her about three miles. I know, she’s the queen of exercise and nature.

Now, the purple dashed line is what she took when she needed to get away from everything except the rustling of leaves, song of birds, and the crunch of leaves under her boots. It was a serene, deep woods path with a few twists and funky turns. It ran about 8 miles, a good two hours of nothing but trees, maybe a chipmunk if she was quiet enough. Not like nature really sparked a fire within her but it was the easiest way to avoid people, work, and life in general. Well. At least for those few hours that she wandered the purple dash.

Though those three paths were her main slice of cake. There was another trail. Light green dashed. Now, this trail is a 15 mile tight and winding path. It runs next to the red line for about a quarter mile then cuts away from every other path. The only one to be so distant from the others. The path does come back to the others at the last ¼ mile. However, for a little over 13 miles it is completely secluded. Around three miles and change in, it does pass by the entrance to a supposedly deep cavern in the mountain the park revolves around. The trail itself closed a few weeks after she started walking it due to some sort of weird cult-ish activity going on near the cave years ago, with two people taken in for the 'deformation of park property' and the cult was never heard from again. Button remembered chuckling to herself at the headlines and the thought of a ‘cave cult.’ Didn’t people have better things to do with their time?

Her thoughts had changed quickly. The news reports did show there was something out of the ordinary going on there, but that didn’t stop people from trying to enter the cave or walk the path. The first week it was closed Button went so far as to start on the red and walk a mile through the woods just to get some peace and quiet on an empty trail. The green dash was indeed empty when she walked it but there was something eerie about walking past the cave that time around. The blockage was weathered and crumbling.

The strange part is, it was not the cave that made the skin on her whole body ripple with a chill, no. The small ornament made of tiny bones that hung inconspicuously to the back of the sign, yes. The half dozen of them she found after bee-lining right down the path to get out of there, hands fidgeting and grasping at empty air. The others more subtly placed than the first but they were there. Her eyes knew what to look for now. Tiny bones wrapped together with twine, dirt, and what Button assumed was a mixture of berries and dirt.

She frowned realizing; berries? No. Blood? Yes.

The bones were small and she pushed the fact that they were more likely than not human bones. She pretended they were from a rabbit or deer.

She pretended hard.

There is about two blocks to go, still feeling the painful cold of asphalt stab her feet. Then it would be up the elevator, dodge that one tenant who is always creeping at the 8th floor elevators for some reason, six doors down on the left, key in lock, then, finally, a graceful flop onto the unmade bed. She looked up from thoughts of her warm sheets, yup, her ugly ass apartment was still there. Therefore, her bundle of pillows and warm was as well. Eyes zoomed right back to the ground for those damn annoying pebbles. She luckily missed a few by staring down. Honestly, though, she probably should have looked up, but like I said; watch out for those pebbles.

Maybe she should have paid more attention to the world around her. Spatial awareness can be a real bitch sometimes.


End file.
